


Body's Telling Me Yes

by popfly



Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Grinding, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humping!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body's Telling Me Yes

**Author's Note:**

> Look at [this picture](http://24.media.tumblr.com/d7d42d95df509d93b54ecd7cc658ee77/tumblr_mmgvac40Sh1s98xhgo1_400.jpg) and tell me Kaner's not wondering, "Do I put my dick in this jock strap or on Johnny's thigh?"
> 
> NO COMPETITION KANER.

Patrick wakes up from a hockey dream hard and humping Johnny’s thigh.

So, you know, typical off day.

“Kaner,” Johnny grumbles, not even opening his eyes. “We’re supposed to be napping, not fucking.”

“But you just scored a really hot goal,” Patrick says, and circles his hips again. He’s used to his hockey dreams getting him hard, they’re so vivid and real and he and Johnny are always on the same line. Johnny tends to not wear a helmet, and takes Patrick’s passes beautifully, and his cheeks are always flushed, the nape of his neck shiny with sweat. He lets Patrick kiss him on the ice, in front of everyone, and lick at his damp throat. Dream cellies are the best.

“No I didn’t,” Johnny says, and his grumpy gruffness is really doing it for Patrick, making his skin tingle and his balls draw up tighter. He moans a little against Johnny’s chest and grinds down harder, smirking to himself when Johnny’s arm tightens around his back instead of yanking him off.

“In my dream you did,” Patrick says, and he’s breathless now, getting closer.

“Are you seriously going to lie there and hump my leg like a dog?”

And god, if Johnny only knew how hot his bitching was. “I would say shut up but you know I love it when you get pissy.” Patrick hooks his ankle around Johnny’s and repositions his leg, gets the hard ridges of muscle where he wants them.

“Jesus, Patrick,” Johnny says, and he’s a little breathless now too, and Patrick can’t help grinning, tipping his head back a little and catching Johnny’s sleepy, half-lidded gaze. He hums, his throat stretched over Johnny’s chest, and Johnny slides his hand up Patrick’s back and into his hair, grabbing a fistful of Patrick’s curls and tugging. “You think you can just use me to get off?”

“I do.” Patrick gives a long, slow roll of his hips, and watches Johnny’s eyelids flutter.

“I’m not a toy, you know. Not just a body you can rub up against until you come. You couldn’t even wait until I woke up, fuck.” Johnny pulls Patrick’s hair a little harder, pain spiking across his scalp and sizzling down his spine, making him arch against Johnny.

Patrick doesn’t try to move his head, to look down and see if Johnny is hard, but every muscle Patrick is pressed against is tense, and he’s shifting on the mattress now, restless. Patrick could reach down, find out, but he’s got a good grip on the smooth skin on Johnny’s waist, and a good rhythm going against Johnny’s thigh, and he’s so close.

“You think you can just have me anywhere, anytime, right Patrick? I’m yours to just be used, whenever you want, yeah? Just grind up against me while I’m sleeping, no matter, as long as you get to come,” Johnny stops to suck in breath when Patrick digs his fingers under Johnny’s ribs, pressing harder and faster against Johnny’s legs, his mouth open and panting from the angle Johnny’s got his head at. He can feel his orgasm building, pressure low in his gut and heat at the base of his spine, and then Johnny says, “Come on, Patrick, come.” And it’s all over.

He shakes against Johnny’s side, softening dick slipping through the mess on Johnny’s thigh, and Johnny slowly untangles his fingers from Patrick’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Patrick drops his head to Johnny’s chest, breath evening out, and mouths at the swell of muscle.

“Patrick,” Johnny says, and he sounds a little desperate now, almost wiggling under Patrick’s mouth. Patrick drags his lips up to Johnny’s nipple as he drags his hand to Johnny’s dick, which is definitely hard. Very hard.

Johnny makes a quiet grunting noise low in his throat, and Patrick jerks him in steady, smooth pulls, thumb sliding over the wet tip, putting a twist in his wrist every other stroke the way he knows Johnny likes. Johnny’s hand flexes convulsively on Patrick’s back, fingertips stuttering over his slightly sweat-damp skin, and Patrick gives Johnny’s nipple a quick, sharp bite.

Johnny comes with a shout, shooting up his torso, missing Patrick’s face by mere inches. He shifts down Johnny’s chest to lick at a stripe of it, making Johnny’s abs jump, and then presses his cheek to the warm, sticky skin and smiles.

“You are an animal,” Johnny says above him, and he’s half-fond, half-disgusted. A typical Johnny tone of voice, and Patrick digs his chin into Johnny’s stomach.

“You love it.”

Patrick feels Johnny’s fingers in his hair again, not pulling this time, almost petting. Patrick lets his eyes drift shut.

“Get up and get in the shower, you’re gross,” Johnny says, and pinches the nape of Patrick’s neck. “I’m hungry, let’s order food.”

"Aye aye, captain." Patrick shoves himself off the bed and goes.


End file.
